After they’d finished eating, she fished a blanket and pillow out of the closet for him and pointed him to the couch.

“Hadley will come in later, but she can sleep with me. Tell her that if she tries to cuddle with you.”

He tossed the pillow onto the couch. “Honestly, I’m so tired I’m not sure I’ll wake up if she comes in and starts jumping up and down on top of me.”

“I’m not going to tell her you said that, because she will definitely test it out.” Maisie headed toward her bedroom.

“Maisie?”

She turned.

“Thank you. Really. For everything.”

She stared at him for a moment, her expression guarded. She opened her mouth, and then seemed to think better of whatever she was going to say.

“Good night, Lennon.”

MAISIE

“GOOOOOD MORNING TO all of you out there in the Q who didn’t get blown up yesterday. That was some shit, wasn’t it?”

Hadley’s voice floated out of the speakers in the living room, too perky. She was always overly perky when she was scared.

On the couch, Lennon stirred. Maisie poured coffee into her cup, watching as he rolled over and blinked several times.

“Good morning,” she said.

He sat up slowly, a confused look on his face as he glanced around the room.

“The hospital has asked that only one person per family waits in the waiting room, as they’re getting a little crowded down there,” Hadley was saying.

“Oh.” Lennon ran a hand through his hair with a laugh. “I thought I heard Hadley.”

“She slept at the studio.” If she slept at all. Maisie doubted it. She hadn’t wanted to fill Lennon in on everything that had happened, but it was obvious that yesterday was a coordinated attack on the Lopez family, and there were a lot of people injured, and even a few dead.

The entire Q was on edge, and Maisie had wanted to stay at the hospital, but she knew Lopez would be disappointed if she let anything happen to Lennon. She didn’t care whether or not he made it out of the Q, and she doubted that Lopez still planned to try, considering yesterday’s chaos. But she was going to keep him safe until someone broke the bad news to him.

Lennon pushed off the blanket and stood. He’d slept in the clothes Lopez had given him. She should probably find him something else.

“What time is it?” He searched for a clock.

“About seven.”

She could see him doing the math in his head. Forty-nine hours left for him to get out.

“Do you want coffee?” she asked quickly, before he could inquire about a plan.

“Yes, please.”

She reached for a mug with her left hand, sighing when pain seared through her fingers. Part of her had hoped that her hand would magically reveal itself to just be bruised the next day. No such luck, apparently.

She grabbed the mug with her other hand, poured Lennon a cup, and then disappeared into her bedroom to rummage around in the drawers. She walked out with pants, a slightly threadbare black T-shirt, and a lightweight gray jacket.